Model Soldier Meets Model Designer
by AvedlyTres
Summary: Take one ambitious designer with a mysterious past, add in a soldier lacking in common sense when it comes to everyday social interactions outside of a military setting, include two cunning assassins and a whole mess of drama and you get the life of Rukia
1. A Designer in Chaos

_In this story I kinda, sorta made up a make believe continent/country (I know, I'm lame). This is mostly due to me not wanting to learn the history of a country and because this story is supposed to have a princess and prince and internal strife and lots of other stuff, I didn't want to make it seem as if I was bad mouthing a real, life country or anything._

_Think of it like Orb in Gundam Seed._

_I named the country Atoria (*weak chuckle, I know its kinda like Australia but I'm seriously not that creative!) It is run by a King and has an elected legislature and isn't a world superpower or anything but isn't a a third world country (consider it to be like a country from Europe or something). It's small but wealthy and has a strong military. Oh yeah, the country is also let's say ... in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean :) and has a culture that is similar to that of the United States. But all the other countries will still exist as is (I think)._

_I hope the country doesn't sound super, overly OC _

_

* * *

Present day, Madrid Fashion Show, twenty minutes before the start of the show_

Utter craziness.

In all capital letters and underlined three times.

That was Rukia's life at the moment. Yes, this is Rukia, the "ambitious designer" and ambitious in this instance might even be considered to be putting it mildly, in terms of how much Rukia wanted to become a designer. She was busy (talk about understatement of the century). In one hand, a pair of scissors, in the other a make up brush, about her neck was measuring tape and clenched between her teeth, a needle and thread. She struggled to try and pick up the bottle of hairspray into her already occupied hands, finally giving up and dropping everything else to grab the damned bottle. Her nerves were frayed, her temper short and her feet were killing her.

Not that she had been expecting this type of situation, after all when she decided to pursue her current dream of becoming a fashion designer she knew she was bound to run into some difficulties every now and then but as corny as it sounded, she had a feeling that this dream was one she would stick with.

Rukia's five models stood before her, three female, two male. Rukia's eyes frantically scanned over the clothes of all five, looking for anything that displeased her and finding many.

"Nemu, the look we're going for here is sleek," Rukia said. "Fix up those bangs of yours."

"Rangiku, help Soi Fon with her glitter, there's too much there."

"Yumichika, that tie, how about we twist it instead of knotting, you understand what I mean?"

Rukia came to her last model, reaching up with difficulty to smooth down a flyaway hair of his swooshback do. "Amazingly, you look almost perfect."

"Thank you much mam."

"Models, two minutes until we start, get into the line-up," the lead programmer shouted.

Rukia took a deep breath, giving her models a reassuring smile, "Here we go everyone," she watched them go, her designs finally made into reality, "make me proud."

--

--

--

_Five weeks earlier, Tokyo, Japan._

Major modeling agency, TaoShino has just launched a fashion competition in hopes of finding a new designer to add to their already impressive staff. Six aspiring designer, five models each and a whole year of runway shows, fashion do's, style blunders and mental breakdowns galore. All brought to you by the traveling camera crew that will travel worldwide as the fashion tour commences.

Fashionistas, fashion disasters and everyone in-between, let's get this competition started.

Kuchiki Rukia, her five hand picked models and her good friends turned stylists, were the center of attention. They stood in the center of a large group of people, flashing lights coming from all directions and microphones being shoved forward.

Rukia gave a weak smile, and forced a path through the crowd and into the twenty story building they had been congregated before them. "Ah, ha, ha, ha," Rukia said with a triumphant smirk, "You aren't going to beat me you gossip hungry sharks."

"Who are you talking to?"

Rukia turned, going over to pat her young stylist on the head, "Hanatarou, don't question my methods, keep that in mind and we'll make it to the top. Now let's go win us a competition shall we?"

--

Twin sisters, Ran Tao and Yoshino Soma stood in their office, awaiting their next designer. The furniture in the large room consisted of two desks, facing opposite each other, two chairs and a catwalk, running down the center of the room, between the desks. The walls were cream, the floor, a dark wooden grain and a large window occupied the total space of the wall opposite the end of the walkway.

To say that these two stood at the top of the fashion industry would be an understatement, they had basically redefined the whole fashion world. To work for them was a dream of multiple designers, not that it was an easy feat to achieve. They hadn't hired anyone on in years and now that one spot had finally opened up, the sisters were not just about to do any old sort of job interview, no they were going to make this much more exciting.

"Up next is?"

"Kuchiki Rukia," Yoshino answered her sister. "She should be arriving right about-"

Knock at the door and the sisters smiled at each other. "Come in," Ran Tao called.

With an air of self-assurance, Kuchiki Rukia strode into the room, her seven part team trailing after her. They formed a line, Rukia to the far left and a little ahead of the rest. Although the shortest of the group, Rukia's presence was the most prominent. She stood around five feet tall, her black hair curling outward around her shoulders, her skin flawless and rivaling that of Snow White and her lilac eyes, wide, and reflecting the sunlight.

"Yoshino," Rukia bowed to one woman, then the other, "Ran Tao."

"Kuchiki Rukia," Yoshino took a seat on her large, wooden desk, crossing one leg over the other. "I see you found your five models."

"Yep," Rukia nodded. Yes, indeed she had, that was one condition met. She was allowed five models, three female, two male, (professional or not), and the agency would pay a minimum wage to each model.

"Go ahead and have your models walk," Ran Tao gave a quick nod of her head, taking her seat behind her desk, a clip board held on her lap.

Rukia nodded, glancing over to her models who were already assembled at the far end of the walkway. "Ready when you are," Yoshino said, "As each model walks, Rukia I would like you to give a brief description of each and tell us why you chose him or her to represent your designs."

"Alright," Rukia pointed, "Let's have Soi Fon go first then."

Soi Fon, took the walkway, striking a pose at the end and beginning her walk. Her long black hair was gathered into two braided pigtails, waving behind her as she went. Confidence was in no way lacking for this girl, her grey eyes sparking with the thrill she felt upon the runway.

"Soi Fon," Rukia said, " Age twenty, modeling for three years." Soi Fon reached the end of the walk, posing and turning, "I chose her due to her high level of fitness and well toned physique that is not overly muscled."

Both of the sisters watched in silence, Ran Tao even writing while her eyes were still up on the model.

Rukia's next model took his place, beginning his walk. "Ayasegawa Yumichika, age nineteen, has been modeling for two years." Yumichika, even in his street clothes, still looked professional, turning on heel and making his way back. His black hair was neatly trimmed, the length down to around his chin and in his left ear, was an amythyst earring, Yumichika wearing it because he claimed the color matched his eyes. "I chose him due to due the great care he takes over his body and his build being on the unbulky side."

"Next," Rukia said, watching Yumichika return to his original spot in the line and waiting for Nemu to begin. Nemu, with all the grace of the dancer she had been took the runway. Her purple hair was down, waving behind her as she walked and her green eyes were as calm as always. "Kurotsuchi Nemu, age seventeen, this is actually her first modeling experience," Rukia said. "I met her at a ballet studio and asked her to become my model. I chose her because of her natural grace and very petite figure."

The only sound during Nemu's walk as the scratching of pen on paper as the two owners continued to take notes.

"Now, my other male model, Ogido Harunobu," Rukia raised a hand indicating that her next person should go. With a flash of his perfect white teeth, Ogido took his turn. "Age twenty two, he's been modeling for almost six years." Ogido reached the end of the runway, smiling confidently and running a hand through his tousled brown locks. "He was actually kind enough to offer to become my model after hearing about this competition and I happily accepted the proposition from such a wonderful professional as himself. I chose to accept his proposal due to his many years of work and his eye catching look."

Ogido struck one last pose, before stepping off the walk, going over to give Matsumoto a small high five as she made her way to the runway. Her heels made contact with the catwalk and she stood, waiting for Rukia to start her.

Rukia nodded, "Matsumoto Rangiku, age twenty one, has been a model for two years." Rangiku stuck her thumbs in the belt loops of her plaid shorts. As she walked, her long, wavy, strawberry blond haired flounced behind her. Her light blue eyes reflected the sunlight that shone through the windows and her mouth was set into, what she called, her signature pout. "I chose her due to her more curvy physique which was meant to contrast Soi Fon's more straight line."

As Rangiku finished and returned to stand beside Ogido, Ran Tao and Yoshino both continued to write, and Rukia nervously chewed the bottom of her lip. "Alright," Yoshino said after a lengthy silence. "How about you tell us about your stylists you have chosen."

With a slight jerk of her head, Rukia had her stylists step forward. "This here is Kuna Mashiro," Rukia grinned. Mashiro beamed a cheerful hello. Her light green hair was pushed from her face by a bright orange head band she had chosen to wear that day and green colored contacts changed the color of her normally brown eyes. "Mashiro is mostly in charge of hair, dying, cutting, styling, perming, excetera, excetera. Basically she's wonder woman with the ability to style hair faster than a speeding bullet."

"Superman is faster than a speeding bullet," Mashiro said in an undertone to Rukia. "Get it right boss."

"Hehehe," Rukia bumped Mashiro back into line, and grabbed the arm of the small boy beside her. She pulled the rather meek looking guy up to stand beside her. His blue eyes were downcast as he mumbled a greeting. "Yamada Hanatarou, my lead makeup artist."

This bit of information did seem to surprise Yoshino and Ran Tao, the two sisters cast each other looks of curiosity. "He may not look it," Rukia continued, slapping Hanatarou on the back. "But he's a top rate makeup professional."

Yoshino smiled, shrugging her shoulders, "Very well, Kuchiki Rukia, you are all set to go. The first competition begins two weeks from now. You have until then to design ten outfits, six female and four male."

Rukia nodded frantically, not really hearing much of what was said after, '_You are all set to go.' _

"Thank you, thank you so much," Rukia bowed her head, she clapped her hands together, "I promise I won't let you down."

--

--

--

_Present day, Madrid Fashion Show, two hours before the start of the show_

Rukia couldn't lie, her clothing designs looked good. She stood behind the screens set up to separate the runway from the eventual havoc that would occur in the back once the fashion show actually got started. Her clothes were hung on the rack before her, ten outfits in all. With a slight jump that she had caught herself dawdling, Rukia grabbed her purse, going to meet her models as they arrived.

"Where's Rangiku and Ogido?" she asked Soi Fon as she finally noticed the absence of two of her team.

"I'm here," Rangiku was limping, and clutching onto Yumichika's shoulder as she half-hopped, half-stumbled back to their station behind the stage.

"Oh no," Rukia paled, "Don't tell me you sprained your ankle or something. Oh no, oh no, oh no-"

Rangiku clapped hand over the smaller woman's mouth, "I'm fine, it's my shoes that aren't looking so hot." She had finally managed to pull off her right shoe, holding it up to show to Rukia. Snapped heel is better than snapped ankle right?

"Oh, that's good," Rukia breathed out, "Oh wait, I mean that's bad, how are you going to walk in the show now? You can't go barefoot and Soi Fon and Nemu only brought one pair of heels and you can't fit into mine and I can't leave to get another pair and -"

Again Rangiku clapped a hand over Rukia's mouth. "It'll be fine, I'll just trade off shoes with Nemu if worse comes to worse. For now why don't you go and find another pair for me to use?"

Rukia slowly nodded and Rangiku lowered her hand, now that Rukia's outburst had subsided, "Oooh wait, I know," Soi Fon said, dropping in on the conversation, "remember at our fashion show in Miami? Well Aporro's team _borrowed_ one of our belts then and we never got it back, so..."

A gleam came into Rukia' eyes, "Ok, I'll be back, Rangiku go and tell Mashiro what's going on and have her help you change clothes."

"Right boss, good luck," Rangiku waved her a bye bye.

At another station, a pink haired designer and one of Rukia's rivals was busy bossing people around, his eyes more absorbed with his models than the short, black haired woman practically crawling across the floor to his clothing rack. "Victory," Rukia grinned as she got her hands on a pair of five inch, black heels. Just as she was about to creep away, Rukia paused, spotting a jacket draped over the back of a chair just a foot from where she was hidden. There was no doubt about it, it was Apporo's jacket, not his design-to-model jacket, but his own personal jacket that she had seen him wear before. And up on the table just above the chair, was a chocolate bar, "Oh this is too good to pass up," Rukia murmured.

Finally done with her mission, "Go-and-borrow-some-shoes," Rukia practically ran back to her station. "Rangiku, where are you-" she was too busy looking for the buxom model to notice the technician that had been walking in front of her. With a crash and dazing, complete with circles of stars, Rukia ran into the man, cursing as she sat up. "Ow my butt," she moaned.

"Sorry," the person she had crashed into said. Rukia looked up, annoyed to see that he was still on his feet, while she herself had been knocked flat on her ass. He was clothed in an all grey jump suit and a cap was pulled down low on his head, the brim of his hat covering his eyes. His name tag read "lighting technician," but other than that told her nothing.

"It's fine, I wasn't watching where I was going," Rukia mumbled, she didn't have time for this, she just needed to get back to her models. With slight apprehension, she got back to her feet, immediately regretting her choice as she felt a twinge of pain shoot through her ankle, "Oh for Pete's sake," she cursed loudly, sitting back down on the ground. "Please tell me I did not sprain my ankle."

And as if on cue, the man beside her leaned down, trying to get a closer look at her now swollen ankle. "I think it's sprained," he murmured.

"Ya think, and get away pervert," Rukia tried to kick him in the head, but he surprisingly fast reflexes, which only worked to further irk her. "What do you think you're doing down there? I'm wearing a skirt for crying out loud."

"I am not trying to be a pervert," he said with a scowl, more angry that she had accused him of such a falsity rather than being mad because she had tried to kick him in the head.

Rukia eyed him, wondering just what the heck was up with the man. "Well, I don't have time for this, thank you much for taking up my time Mr. Lighting Tech, but I have to go," Rukia forced herself back to her feet, pulling off her own high heels and just dropping them onto the ground. She clutched her stolen goods in her arms and started to hop back to her station.

"Hey, you shouldn't be trying to walk," he grabbed her upper arm.

"I'm not, I'm hopping and I don't have time for this. Being the _competitor_ here, I don't exactly have time to just sit back and relax during this _competition."_

He relaxed his hold on her arm, and Rukia thought he was letting her go, but instead he said, "Very well, I will help you then."

"I don't need your help, hey put me down," Rukia said in surprise as he grabbed her, slinging her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. "What the heck? Don't manhandle me, put me down this instant."

"Can't do that yet," he said, going over to her area where her clothes rack stood, models and stylists were gathered.

"Rukia, what are you doing?"

"Not now Rangiku, just take the damn shoes and get ready to go," Rukia handed off the shoes to her model, trying to get their attentions to focus anywhere but on her and the technician who had slung her over his shoulder like she was the catch of the day. "Wait, why are there only four of you?"

Rangiku grinned, holding up her hand, "Well when you have five and you take away one-" The good thing about Rukia being carried about, was that she was able to reach up higher and she used this to her advantage, reaching out to whack Rangiku on the head.

"Oh right," Yumichika said, taking over for Rangku, "We didn't tell you, but Ogido is sick."

... "You think you could have told me that earlier?!" Rukia shrieked not even caring that she may have deafened the man that carried her. She hung her head, "What else can go wrong today?"

"Well, we were out of muffins today during breakfast," Rangiku said, "so I had to have a donut."

"Shut up Matsumoto," Rukia muttered. "Great, there goes my chance to prove myself in this show."

"Don't mope Rukia," Soi Fon reached out, cupping Rukia's face in her hand and squishing her face together. "We'll just find someone else."

"Where am I-" Rukia freed her face, shaking her head and unpinching her face, "Where am I supposed to find another model who's as good looking as Ogido and as in shape as he was and as tall as him and looks as great as him in my clothes and-"

Soi Fon took ahold of Rukia's face again, "How about the Romeo that has you hung over his shoulder?"

Rukia took a minute to compute, blinking momentarily, "Him?" she snorted, "He's in charge of lighting on the runway, he doesn't walk the runway. Besides, I bet he doesn't even know the first thing about modeling."

"Well, Nemu was an amateur to and she walks like a natural," Rangiku said. "And it looks like he could fit Ogido's clothes."

Rukia shook her head, "But-"

"And we don't really have time to go out an search for another model," Mashiro said.

"But-"

"And I'm the best there is so I'll be able to give him a few pointers," Yumichika added, looking at the technician as if he would like to give him more than just a few pointers.

Rukia hit her head against the back of the head of the man carrying her, "Fine, fine, let's just see how he looks, then we'll decide."

---

The man had seemed reluctant to participate in the Rukia's (her models') scheme. "You owe me," Rukia said from her perch upon her chair now that she had finally been set down, "I won't be able to walk normally for a few weeks because of your freaking body."

There was a collective snigger from Rukia's models. "Boss that sounds so wrong," Rangiku grinned.

"Shut up," Rukia turned back to look at the technician, who had finally taken off his hat, revealing a mop of orange hair. "So, are you going to help us or not?"

His sepia, brown eyes screamed 'no' but he finally nodded, "Fine, I'll do it."

She hadn't been expecting him to agree, but smirked, clapping her hands together, "Yumichika, Hanatarou, strip him."

Yumichika evilly nodded, and Hanatarou nervously said yes.

The orange haired man held up his hand, "Wait, what?"

---

Rukia wasn't going to lie, Mr. Body-like-a-freakin-cement-wall was rather good looking under his grungy jump suit. He had been stripped down to his briefs, right in front or Rukia, who for some reason, found herself blushing and unable to look at him until he had clothes on again. It wasn't like she had never seen a naked man before, it was the fashion industry after all, but never before had she felt so hot and flustered as she had when she saw the orange head. From what she had seen though, to say his body was 'hot' was an understatement.

"God, did you see that Rukia?" Rangiku said, gripping onto Rukia's hand to whisper in her ear. "That is the definition of wonderland, I wouldn't mind becoming his Alice."

Rukia finally looked back to, relieved to see that her newest male model now had clothes on. A dark pair of black slacks, and a black button down shirt with a white tie were now covering up his glorious musculature, which Rukia found both disappointing and relieving. "I'm not gonna lie," she grinned at him as he checked his own reflection in the full-length mirror, "you look ..." _freakin' hot, drop dead sexy, I think I wanna take you somewhere and ... _"decent," she decided to go with. "And I really do appreciate your help, Mr. ...?"

"Eh," he said, twiddling with his tie, "You can call me ... Himitsu."

_Himitsu, that means secret ... _Rukia raised her eyebrow, deciding to just let him go with whatever he felt like for his name, models were odd like that anyway. "So, Himitsu, just how doe a guy that looks like you, end up becoming someone that stands not in the spot light, but behind it?"

Where to even begin, he looked to be conflicted, "It's complicated," he finally said.

--

--

--

_Three weeks earlier, thousands of miles away, mid-Atlantic Ocean._

The life faded from her eyes, dull, vacancy taking over.

On the filthy floor, of the abandoned warehouse, the small girl took her last shuddering breath. Her extravagant robes, splayed out around her, blood streaking down the silk material, her eyes closed and her body stilled. Her only other companions, two tall men, one, with an absent minded manner, chewing on his cigarette, stood above her, watching the frail creature's life leave her.

The man hovering over her leaned down, pulling the veil off her head and forcing her eyes open. "Her irises are brown," he cursed. "We got the wrong girl."

"Are you sure?" the man's companion asked, leaning down to also get a closer look at the girl's face.

"Yes, the girl we needed to get had purple irises, it's unique to their family."

They both stood up, one man scoffing and the other massaging his shoulder. "That girl put up a hell of a fight."

They walked from the darkened warehouse, shutting the door behind them, closing the lifeless body off. "What now?"

"For now, we get rid of the evidence," the taller man lit a match, dropping it onto the dried, dead grass that surrounded the warehouse. "And then, we go find the real princess."

--

--

--

_Three weeks earlier, Capital City, Atoria_

With a look of disbelief, Kurosaki Ichigo stared down at the new assignment before him. "I don't think I'm the best man for this job," he finally mumbled to himself, shutting the folder and leaning back in his chair. He let his head fall back, and rested his forearm across his eyes.

The only light form his room came from the lamp above his desk, the light casting shadows across his well toned musculature and bright orange hair. Sergeant Major Kurosaki Ichigo, age twenty was the ideal soldier. He had never failed a mission, never let a secret leak into the public and killed only when needed. His only problem, was just that. A soldier was all Ichigo knew to be. He had grown up in the military, following commands all his life and carrying out mission as early as the age of ten. The only absolutes in his life were his orders and his life belonged to that of his country.

A knock at his door and the door slowly opened inward. "Kurosaki?" the man asked, poking his head into the room. "I knocked first, so you're not going to pull a gun on me right?"

Ichigo lowered his arm, indicating that the man could come in, "The only reason I pulled a gun on you last time Ishida, was because you crept up on me, which I told you not to do unless you wanted a bullet in your brain."

Corporal Ishida Uryu, age twenty one, was a communications specialist of the military and one of the few that Ichigo might possibly extend the name of friend to. "Well Kurosaki, I guess it's a good thing I knocked first," he glanced down at the folder on Ichigo's desk, turning his head slightly to be able to better read the title. "Oh new assignment?"

Ichigo nodded, getting to his feet and stretching, "Yeah I'm about to go and talk to the colonel about it actually," he said, going over to grab the dark blue jacket of his military uniform. He pulled his jacket on, closing the buttons up over his white undershirt. "I really don't think he actually meant to give this assignment to me of all people, and after I discuss the matter with him, I'm sure he will see what I mean."

--

--

"So, I take it your commander didn't see your point?"

"Shut it Ishida," Ichigo sat, his arms crossed in annoyance, on a bench in the back of a helicopter. "The colonel said there's a reason I was assigned to this mission, but he wouldn't tell me what it was exactly."

"Ah, Urahara is the lead on this mission?" Ishida placed a rather heavy container on the ground of the helicopter, shoving it under a seat and strapping it into place. "I heard that he's a bit loony and he's only stayed out of trouble so long because he's friends with the king."

"Not good to talk about our superior like that Ishida," Ichigo said, pulling out his mission folder again, "And how did you know about this assignment anyway?"

Ishida grinned, pushing his silver rimmed glasses back up his nose, "I'm your communicator from home base. Whenever you want to contact back home, I'm the person you have to go through."

"Great, I have to listen to your nasally voice every time I want to call home," Ichigo rolled his eyes. "So tell me, do you know anyone else on this mission?"

"It's all here," Ishida pulled a folder from an overhead shelf, shoving it into Ichigo's hands and then continuing to load cases onto the helicopter. "I have to admit, from looking the files over, this is one top notch team."

Ichigo shuffled through the pages, finding the one he wanted. Five pictures total, a column of information beneath each, the members of his newest team.

He looked down at the first, a girl, with honest eyes, brown hair and a petite frame, this was his first partner of the mission. Officer cadet Hinamori Momo, age eighteen, five foot tall, eighty-six pounds, born in Atoria.

Next, a male, with a odd blond bob haircut, a lanky build and a bored expression on his face. Sergeant Major, Hirako Shinji, age twenty one, five foot, eleven inches tall, one hundred forty-eight pounds, born in Atoria.

After him, another guy with torquise eyes, very small stature and perhaps the most remarkable trait, pure white hair. Second Lieutenant Hitsugaya Toshiro, age sixteen …

Ichigo jumped to his feet, whacking his head on the above compartment.

"What's wrong?" Ishida asked, looking up from the laptop he had set on the floor of the helicopter.

Ichigo turned the folder around, pointing to Hitsugaya's information, "Is this correct Ishida, this guy is a second lieutenant _and_ he's only seventeen?"

Ishida nodded, "Yep, he's been in the military almost as long as you. He's taken on some completely impossible missions and succeeded. He's the prodigy of our military."

Ichigo scowled, resuming his seat and continuing with his reading. _Lieutenant_ Hitsugaya Toshiro, _age seventeen_, five foot, four inches tall, hundred eighteen pounds, born in Atoria.

Moving on, Sergeant Kurosaki Ichigo blah, blah, blah all the stuff he already knew.

And for the last person, rounding out their team of five people was a rather melancholy looking guy. He had black hair, rather long as far as Ichigo was concerned, green eyes and pale, white skin. Second Lieutenant Ulquiorra Schiffer, age twenty-one, five foot, six inches tall, one hundred twenty-one pounds, born in Atoria.

Ichigo looked up at Ishida, who sat typing away on his laptop, "And why am I supposed to be impressed?"

Ishida kept typing, the rolling of his eyes being the only indication that he had heard Ichigo. "Don't you recognize any of those names?"

Ichigo scanned the list again, "Well yeah I've heard of Ulquiorra. He's some super intelligence specialist that has an almost photographic memory."

Ishida nodded in approval, keeping busy with his work, "Hinamori is a weapons specialist and the best marksman, make that markswoman, in the our whole military. She can use any weapon and hit almost any target. I heard she killed someone with stick of gum and a sponge."

"Really?" Ichigo blinked, "How?"

"I don't know, I just heard, I didn't actually see it," Ishida threw up his hands in annoyance. He reached out, snatching the folder from Ichigo. He pointed to a name on the paper, "Hitsugaya Toshiro, kid genius and world class computer tech and hacker. If it can be hacked, Hitsugaya has probably already hacked it."

Ichigo let out a low whistle, "Remind me to never let that kid near any of my electronics."

Ignoring his comment, Ishida continued on, "Last we have, Hirako Shinji, telecommunication specialist and translator. He can speak thirty different languages and read lips. The reason you're most likely to know him though, because the guy gets around. They say the language he is most fluent in, is the language of love."

"Well," said a voice, "I'm surprised you think so highly of me." Their in the flesh, stood Hirako Shinji himself, leaning against the doorframe of the helicopter. With a single leap, he stepped into the copter, dropping his green, military duffle bag on the floor, and going to sit next to Ichigo. "Hey, you there hand me that file," he said to Ishida, taking the folder from him. "Thanks," he said, opening the papers and turning to the page with the profiles.

With a chuckle, Shinji turned to look at Ichigo, "She's a cutie," he said, pointing the picture of Hinamori Momo.

Ichigo leaned away from him, "Eh, right."

"Momo huh?" Shinji mused, "Yeah, this mission just got a whole lot better. I'm glad not all my team mates are testosterone fueled males-"

A voice from the door said, "And are you saying this because you run on estrogen Sergeant major?"

Ichigo and Ishida got to their feet, saluting the white haired boy that stood in the doorway. "Yo lieutenant," Shinji said, flashing him a grin.

Hitsugaya Toshiro sighed, climbing into the helicopter to clock Shinji on the head. "Give me that," he grabbed the folder. "And you better leave Hinamori alone."

"Oooh, and why's that Second Lieutenant?"

"Shut up," Hitsugaya snapped. He turned his attentions to Ichigo, "Oh at ease Kurosaki."

"Thank you sir," Ichigo took his seat.

"About that-" Hitsugaya said but paused at the arrival of their last two team members.

"Hi there Toshiro, Ishida," Hinamori Momo poked her head into the helicopter.

"Welcome lovely lady," Shinji offered her a hand, pulling her up to stand beside him. "Hirako Shinji, nice to meet you."

"I know," Hinamori smiled, "I read the member profiles." She pointed to each person turn, "Kurosaki, Hirako, Toshiro and Ulquiorra," she pointed a hand over her shoulder at the dark haired man now climbing into the helicopter after her. "Oh and I didn't forget you Ishida, although you aren't really part of the team."

"Thanks," Ishida said, "I think."

Ulquiorra was silent, going to sit on the bench opposite the one Ichigo and Hisagi sat on. The rest of the equipment was packed and Ishida bid them farewell as the pilot shut the door and the helicopter took off. Ichigo glanced sideways at his crew, noting that like himself, they were all rather young.

Hitsugaya got to his feet, clearing his throat. "Now that we are in the air, I can begin the mission briefing."

"You aren't going to wait till we land lieutenant?" Ichigo asked.

"No, as soon as we land our mission begins, so we brief now," Hitsugaya nodded, indicating that he appreciated Ichigo's question. "First order of business, is the name thing. This mission, is technically not a military one, so there is no reason to refer to us by our ranks."

"Why isn't this a military mission sir?" Hinamori interrupted.

"No 'sir' needed on that sentence Momo," Hitsugaya said. "But a few months ago, a leak in our security was found. Our military has been breached and our safety has been damaged."

There were sounds of anger and disbelief from the assembled group. "What proof do you have?" Shinji said rather calmly.

As Ulquiorra got to his feet, the air quieted, "The king himself told us. And to confirm our information, just last night the princess's stand-in was assassinated."

The truth of the matter set in and solemnity took over. Ichigo said, "So we are undercover even from our own country?"

Hitsugaya and Ulquiorra nodded, "So, as a team, no titles, we are all equal," Hitsugaya said. "We will each be given an alias and a codename that Ulquiorra and I will be choosing." He pulled a folded piece of paper from his inner pocket of his jacket, "The roles will be as follows, Momo, you are in charge of our artillery, Hirako will take care of any telecommunications and any translating that may need to be done. Oh and also if we need any transport, Hirako you are also in charge of getting us rides when needed. Hmm, for some reason the Colonel has you listed as being in charge of our finances too …"

Hirako grinned and made a silent motion of 'yes!"

"But I don't like that idea," Hitsugaya said, taking a pencil from his pocket and scribbling something down. "Momo, you're in charge of finances now. Moving on Ulquiorra, you are the intelligence expert," Hitsugaya said and Ulquiorra merely nodded. "So that means, any information we get, needs to be given to Ulquiorra."

There was a collective, 'right' among group and Hitsugaya proceeded on, "I am in charge of computer hacking," he said, with an almost _duh_ tone in his voice. "I will also be taking charge of finding our housing when the need calls for it."

He finally turned to look at Ichigo, "And Kurosaki, you are our field agent, so you will be our eyes and ears inside."

Ichigo nodded in understanding.

"Sir," Shinji said, his question directed to Ulquiorra, "Is there a reason we were chosen for this mission. I mean, I know we are good but I still don't see why we would be more qualified to this mission than soldiers up higher in the ranks."

Ulquiorra closed his eyes, pensive in thought, "The king picked us personally, although I have my doubts about some of his choices."

As if sensing the possibility for a fight, Hitsugaya took the conversation over again. "So team," Hitsugaya said, "It's important that we succeed, if we fail, it could mean the princess's life."

"Anything for our lovely princess," Shinji said.

"Right," Momo nodded.

Ichigo agreed with the other two. He cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention and finally asking the question that had long been bugging him. "Hitsugaya, I was wondering if I understood the mission location correctly."

"What isn't to understand?"

"Well, the location that is …"

"Yes?" Hitsugaya asked clearly still not seeing what Ichigo was so bothered by.

"Er," Ichigo scratched the back of his head, "are we really going undercover at a modeling agency?"

--

--

--

_Present Day, Madrid Fashion Show, Start of Show_

Standing in line behind Yumichika, waiting for his turn to walk the runway, Ichigo's hidden earpiece crackled, "You better not screw this up Kurosaki," was his wonderful advice from Hitsugaya. "If you do, I can assure you that you will not be adding your genes to the future gene pool, because I will be removing you from the gene pool permanently."

"If your cover is blown, I will personally make sure that you eat through a tube for the rest of your life," Ulquiorra added.

"And if you do live through this fashion show, just know that I'll be kicking your ass for your stupidness in injuring the person we're supposed to be _protecting_," was Shinji's contribution to the conversation.

Ichigo could only listen as his 'wonderful, and supportive' team talked into his earpiece. "Ichigo," Momo was the last voice, "Good luck."

* * *

_What do you think?_

_Does it have some potential?_

_I hope ... feedback would be lovely_

_And don't worry, more info will be in the next chapters, as in who's Rukia's competition and just what is going on with Rukia and this secret mission crew that's following her around._


	2. A Soldier in Fashion

_Chapter 2! Sorry it took so long, my "blueprint" file, so to speak, for this story became "corrupted" and I couldn't open it :( so had to start from scratch diddly._

_Thanks to:_

_xxxChaos Queenxxx, Llyssa-maiden, hihi, Deviant Hollow, Dissonencia Serenidad, KurukiXV, xxxx, blusake, Lightingrain, Rukia001_

_BLEACHISAWESOMEANDIMAWESOME XP - Lol, yeah for some reason I just can't think of Momo saying anything bad :)_

_Aur22 - I will definitely take your advice :) so, to romance it is then right? :)_

_* Don't forget, Ichigo's codename is Himitsu, Rukia still doesn't know his real name_

**Disclaimer: I do not in anyway own Bleach or any of its Characters (or anything else under the protection of copyright)**

**

* * *

**

_II~II~II_

Interview with the Contestants: Part 1

Major modeling agency, TaoShino has just launched a fashion competition in hopes of finding a new designer to add to their already impressive staff. Six aspiring designers, five models each and a whole year of runway shows.

Let's meet our first designer shall we!

**Reporter:** Hi there fashion world, this is **A. Tres** Reporting to you live outside of the TaoShino Fashion Show in Madrid. With us today, we have one of the entrants competing for a spot at the TaoShino agency. Sir, sir, can you please state your name, age and where you are from for the camera?

**Aporro**: Alright, since the camera loves me. I am **Szayel Aporro Granz**, I am twenty-seven years old, I know, I know, I don't look it. And what was the last question, oh wait don't answer that, location, well, I hail from the wonderful city of Venice."

**Reporter**: Good deal, ok can you tell us a bit about your models, who they are, maybe some ages?

**Aporro**: Very well simpleton, since I have time, I will humor your questions. My models consist of Tia Harribel, she's like twenty-three or something, I don't really care enough to give a damn. Next I have Loly, she's like eighteen and again, I really don't care and my last female model is Cirucci Sanderwicci, the pain in my ass.

**Reporter**: Ooohk …

**Aporro**_**: **_For my male models I have the diva Luppi, he's also a pain in my butt and last is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

**Reporter**: Sounds like you don't get along very well with your models, or is this stress of the business?

**Aporro**: No, I just hate them all.

**Reporter**: … Right, well unfortunately, that's all we have time for today, so please stay tuned for the next update where we introduce our next designer and his or her models.

Aporro's Team:

Female models  
- Tia Harribel (age: 23, 7yrs of modeling experience)  
- Loly (age: 18, 1 yr experience)  
- Cirucci Sanderwicci (age: 18, 2yrs experience)

Male models  
- Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (age: 22, 4yrs experience)  
- Luppi (age: 17, 2yrs experience)

Stylists  
- Verona - hair  
- Lumina - makeup

_II~II~II_

Kurosaki Ichigo was perfect for military life.

He could shoot a man through his right temple from over a quarter mile away with one shot.

He could disarm almost any bomb in under thirty seconds.

He could use any household object as a weapon.

He could withstand poisons.

He could use a katana.

He could use shuriken.

And apparently the something else this killing machine was also able to do was … model.

Rukia felt her eyes wanting to pop from their sockets as her newly recruited model returned from his first ever walk on the runway. It wasn't the walk of a seasoned pro, but still, he hadn't been meandering down the catwalk either. There was an awkward way he moved but his walk was almost militaristic. Each step was crisp, precise, like he followed very strict guidelines for how he was supposed to move.

The catwalk was lit with brightly with overhead lights, and a sea of people sat about in the folding chairs on the ground below. Himitsu was attracting a fair amount of attention and Rukia had the distinct impression that it wasn't because of her outfit. On the other hand, it appeared that Himitsu wasn't suffering from first time modeling stage fright and kept his eyes steadily on Rukia as his return walk.

The music echoed in the large room the furious clicking of cameras came from the end of the runway. RanTao and her sister sat at the end of the walk, in front of all the reporters as they scrutinized every single outfit.

Himitsu stood at the head of the runway, after returning from his walk, looking a bit unsure as to what he should do next. Rukia waved her arm about, calling him over.

Loly, one of Aporro's models, watched in interest, too much interest as far as Rukia was concerned, as Himitsu made his way to her. As he strode past Loly, her eyes did a sweep of his body, and she grinned. Rukia was definitely not ok with this.

After that, the long streamers flowing from Loly's outfit _somehow _became tied around a cement post, resulting in her outfit tearing when she began to walk. Rukia smiled in satisfaction of her quick handiwork, as Loly ran away crying. Trying to not look too guilty (because she definitely wasn't feeling that way), Rukia clasped her hands together, going to look for her lighting technician and help him into his next outfit.

"Uh, Himitsu?" she found the orange head back at her station, struggling to get out of his shirt. "You still have to walk again."

"Oh," he paused, one arm in the shirt still, "Do I need to keep this on then, mam?"

Realizing that she had been staring at what was below the shirt, Rukia hastily shook her head. "Uh, let's see, Ogido's next outfit, was," Rukia's hand flew over her clothes rack, as she searched out the hanger she wanted.

"Is your ankle ok?" he inquired, his voice full of worry.

"My ankle," she looked to her own ankles. "Oh yeah, my sprained ankle," she muttered to herself, "That's how I guilted him into helping us in the first place." She snatched the hanger from the rack, chucking the clothing at him. "Don't worry about my ankle now, just get this on."

"Very well, right away mam," he held up the clothes in front of him, then looked to Rukia, "Should I change right here?"

Change in front of her and give her a chance to see that body sculpted by the Gods once more?

"Mwahahaha," she laughed much louder than usual, and found she couldn't stop herself. "Of course silly," Rukia felt her awkward grin on her face as she said this. "Go, ahead and change, I won't peek."

"Very well mam," he didn't even seem to care that Rukia might peek. His shirt was off and Rukia fiddled away unnecessarily with the button of her own jacket. When she finally dared to look around once more, he was already clothed in the new outfit. He lifted one arm, staring at interest at the rather large bell cuff of his sleeve. "What is the point of this big sleeve," his brown eyes were curious.

"It's style," Rukia gave him the once over. Man, she never would have guessed that this guy would be so worthy of the word hot and all its other synonyms. "Um, here," she grabbed a hair brush from the desk, and turned about almost running into Ichigo.

"Eh," she reached up to try and brush his hair at the same time he reached for the brush. They did a few more awkward hand movements, as each tried to figure out just who should brush his hair. Finally, Himitsu lowered his hands to his sides, and leaned down, bringing his head closer to Rukia's reach.

She could only stare at his shock of orange hair momentarily before she carefully extended her hands and began to run the bristles of the brush through his hair. She ran her free hand through his orange locks, surprised by the softness of his hair. Looking ever so carefully, she saw his eyes were closed, and he appeared relaxed, well almost relaxed, minus the deep scowl that seemed permanently etched upon his brow.

She cleared her throat to hide her nervous jitters and lowered her hands, "Ok," she nodded her head. "You are good to go."

He returned to his normal height, a full head above her and solemny said, "Thank you mam. I will return to the walk way and I shall not fail you."

"Er, the catwalk right," Rukia gave him a thumbs up, "Well, go get 'em."

Rukia watched him walk away, reminding herself to keep her eyes somewhere decent. "What a weird guy."

_II~II~II_

"So," the voice of Shinji could be heard through Ichigo's earpiece. "How do you look?"

"I guess I look good," Ichigo could now freely talk to his team, now that no one was paying him any heed. He held his hand near his mouth, speaking lowly into the concealed microphone in his ring. He contemplated his answer, "Or rather stylish, at least that was what the princess said."

"Yeah, but that's just because she's never seen me model," Shinji said. "In that case, she would probably be like, Daaaaammmmnn!"

"I highly doubt that," Ichigo muttered under his breath, trying to keep the movement of his lips minimal as he made his way back to the stage.

"Oh, are you getting angry thinking about how the princess may fall in love with me at first sight when I finally get to meet her?"

"That's enough!" Hitsugaya said loudly causing a whine of painful feedback in Ichigo's ear. "It doesn't matter if the princess finds any of us attractive, she's engaged anyway. So, keep your stupid heads in the mission or else, so help me I will rip off your thumbs and sew your big toes in their place."

There was silence from Ichigo's earpiece. "So Toshiro," Shinji ventured to say. "That means you wish the princess found you attractive too right?"

"Gosh dammit Hirako!"

There was a nudge at Ichigo's elbow and his hands shot out, grabbing the other man's throat. The dark haired model looked ready to wet his pants and struggled to free himself from Ichigo's grasp, "Sorry," he gasped out, "I just wanted to tell you that it was your turn."

Ichigo had been so distracted by the idiots talking into his ear that he hadn't even noticed that it was his turn to walk once more. He immediately dropped his arm, "Sorry, uh, that was my fault."

The man looked like he wished to add something onto Ichigo's statement but thought better of it. "Kuchiki's next model you're up," the director said, waving his pen at Ichigo.

"Sir," Ichigo stood ready at the head of the runway, standing stock still until given the go signal. It was at times like these that he was grateful that his team could only hear him and not see him. He kept a steady pace to the end of the runway, still wondering if he was doing this whole "modeling" thing correctly.

The flashing lights were doing a number on the rods of his retinas and the shoes Rukia had put him in were a far cry from his usual military, combat boots. He stood at the end of the walk, his eyes falling onto the twin owners. One leaned over, whispering to her sister who smiled and looked up to Ichigo.

Something about those two was familiar, but Ichigo couldn't place where exactly he had seen them before.

On his return walk, his eyes were once again drawn to the slender maiden, standing behind the stage, her violet eyes on him, awaiting his return. Perhaps this modeling thing wasn't so bad after all.

_II~II~II_

The adrenaline from the show began to wind down and Rukia resorted to the caffeine in her coffee to keep her body going. As the models took their last round about the stage, and made their way back to their stations, Rukia felt the accomplishment of successfully making it through another show.

"Ok, let's pack up," she said to her stylists. "Hanatarou, please handle all the makeup and accessories. Mashiro, Mashiro wake up! Once you pack up your hair stuff, please round up the models."

Rukia watched Hanatarou nod frantically, and Mashiro sleepily amble over to begin gather her bottles of hairspray and mousse. Rukia allowed herself to dawdle a moment longer, glancing around for her models to return, in particular for Himitsu. She shook her head, trying to focus on something other than her newest recruit and set about helping her assistants clean up.

Running her big toe into a chair leg, Rukia cursed hopping around on one foot and knocking over a bottle of perfume in the process. The plastic bottle bounced on the floor once, spinning away towards the next group's station.

"Crap-on-a-stick," Rukia cursed under her breath. It was dangerous to enter another designer's station, especially considering that the one she was about to walk into was Aporro's.

"Where is that damn perfume," Rukia muttered as she crawled about on the floor, groping under clothes racks for the bottle. "I swear if, Aporro catches me …"

A firm hand grabbed her by the back of her collar, lifting her bodily upwards. She struggled to free herself, but the grip was too strong and her feet hovered inches above the ground.

"He'll do what?" asked her captor with a grin.

Rukia narrowed her eyes in apparent dislike. She recognized him. It was one of Aporro's models, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. "Let me down," Rukia squirmed, feeling her shirt ride up the more she struggled.

"What will he do?"

"Who?" Rukia glared at him.

"You were saying that Aporro was going to do something to you if he catches you," he grinned, revealing some rather sharp looking teeth. He leaned in closer, his nose inches from Rukia's, "Just what do you suppose he'd do?"

Rukia frowned, "Why do you care?"

"Well, I was thinking that if Aporro did catch you, I would ask him to let me keep you," his grin widened, "as a pet."

There was a clicking noise, and Grimmjow tensed, his pupils dilating in realization of sorts. "I think you should let her down now."

Grimmjow nodded and lowered Rukia gently back onto her feet. She took a step back, finally noticing what had distracted Grimmjow's attention. The gun pressed to Grimmjow's temple was held in place by Himitsu, his brown eyes promising death to anyone that dare oppose him. "Who are you and what business do you have with Miss Kuchiki?"

"I was just having some fun," Grimmjow watched the gun with great caution. "Will you put that thing down already?"

Himitsu kept his gaze steady, his eyes only leaving Grimmjow to flicker momentarily to Rukia. "Miss Kuchiki, are you injured at all?"

Her brain kicked into action, and Rukia went to stand between Grimmjow and the barrel of the gun. "Himitsu," she glanced around, hoping that no one else had noticed the gun, not that she could see how anyone in sane mind could miss it. "Put that away right now."

"I haven't confirmed whether he is a threat or not."

"He's not a threat, he's a male model for Pete's sake. Put it down," Rukia put her hand on his arm, "now."

Himitsu finally nodded, dropping his arm. Grimmjow bolted, muttering words of promised ass kicking later.

Rukia turned on Himitsu, "What the hell were you thinking?" she kicked him in his right shin.

"Why do you have gun?" she kicked him in his left shin.

"Who the hell are you?" she socked him one to the stomach.

_II~II~II_

Ichigo bent over, clutching his stomach as he tried to reclaim his breath. "Damn."

"Ichigo, Ichigo!" he heard Hitsugaya calling for him. "Are you injured, what happened?"

"The princess punched me," he murmured. There was a long silence from the ear piece.

"Excuse me?" he finally heard Hitsugaya again. "Are you telling me, that the national princess of Atoria … punched you?"

"Hey!"

This time the voice came from beside him. Rukia smacked him on the back of his head, "What are you muttering about?"

He raised his head, trying to ignore the laughter he now heard coming over his ear piece. "Sorry," Ichigo said to Rukia. "I was merely talking to myself."

She crossed her arms, tapping her foot, waiting for him. "Uh," Ichigo looked at her, "so, did you need something."

Stomping brutally on his toe, she yelled, "I want an explanation you crazy asshole."

"About?"

"About the gun!"

"Oh, that," Ichigo said, holding up his gun. "There is no reason to worry. This gun is filled with non-lethal rubber caps. There are no real bullets in here. No problem right?"

"It's still a problem!" her hand made contact with the back of his head once again. "You just pulled a gun on another, unarmed man. Grimmjow didn't know that these bullets are non-lethal. He's probably calling the cops!"

"Oh," Ichigo said calmly. "I better get my real gun then."

"You freakin' idiot," Rukia stomped on his foot once more. She grabbed his hand, pulling him after her.

"Ichigo," Hitsugaya sounded irritated, "hell, you sure caused a mess didn't you?"

"Let's just forget about him boss," Shinji joined in. "We should just leave Ichigo there to deal with it himself. He's big boy."

"Shut up Hirako."

"Ichigo, don't worry," Momo said. "We'll be getting you some help."

"If he's already gotten himself into trouble, then leave him there," it was Ulquiorra's cold voice this time. "He's nothing but trash."

Shinji roared with laughter and Hitsugaya tried to calm everything down, while Momo chided, "That wasn't very nice Ulquiorra."

"Would you all just shut up?" Ichigo yelled. He clapped a hand to his forehead. They were supposed to be helping him, not driving him insane.

"Excuse me!"

"Uh oh," Ichigo finally came to the realization that there was a very, very angry looking Rukia standing before him. If she had been angry before, she looked ready to strangle him now. "Sorry, mam," he offered an apology in hopes of preventing violent actions from Rukia.

"Did you just tell _me_ to shut up?"

"Eh, no …"

"Then who were you talking to?"

"Uh, well," he really did not have an answer for that.

"Just play it off Ichigo," Hirako suggested.

"Change the subject," Hitsugaya advised.

Ulquiorra added last, "Kurosaki, pull out your gun, your _real_ gun, with the _real_ bullets, put it up to your head and pull the-"

"Alright, alright enough already!" Ichigo shouted. "You are driving me insane!"

"Ichigo, don't forget about Rukia," Momo said hesitantly.

Crap, yes he had indeed forgotten about Rukia once again. She looked bewildered. He could tell she was trying to decide between running away or kicking his butt. "Eh, Himitsu," she said, using his the pseudo name he had given her. "What, I mean, who are you talking to?"

"Well, uh, there are kinda, these things that I talk to," Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck.

"What things?"

"Eh, ehm, voices in my head."

Yep, she definitely thought he was crazy now.

"Uh," she finally spoke, or at least attempted to. "Look," she pressed a hand to her forehead. "I can see you have some … _issues_ to work out but I don't care about that if-"

"Rukia, darlin' there you are," said an exuberant Yumichika, flouncing over to Rukia's side. "RanTao is here. She wants to meet with all designers." He turned his lavender eyes on Ichigo, "Hello there."

"Uh, hello," Ichigo said in uncertainty.

"You were really good tonight, but If you'd like, I can give you a few pointers, in private some time."

"Eh ..."

"Himitsu," Rukia's hand was clenched about his sleeve. "Look, I'd really like it if you would continue being my model. So, please, can you wait around until I'm done with this meeting? I promise it won't take too long."

So, she hadn't been thinking he was completely bonkers, or maybe she did but she didn't find it to be a problem. Ichigo didn't really _want_ to be a model, but it provided him with the perfect opportunity to stay by her side. Plus, how could he say no to those magnificent eyes?

He nodded once, "Yes mam, I will be here, awaiting your return."

_II~II~II_

"So," Yoshino said, standing with her sister before the six contestants. "To sum up our meeting, your next runway show will be in three weeks. Until then, you are free to design at will. I will alert you of the theme tomorrow via text, so have your phones with you."

They were congregated in a side room, standing before the two sisters who sat behind the a grand oak desk. The walls were paneled with a dark wood and the floor was covered by a thick, white carpet that worked effectively in hiding the nervous tapping made by Rukia's foot.

"You all made us proud tonight," RanTao said. "My sister and I took a picture of each of your outfits and will assign them points accordingly. Just a reminder, each outfit can earn up to five points if we find it to be of the highest of quality. The contestant at the end of the competition with the most points will of course, be our winner."

"And so, I know you are all tired tonight. You are free to leave," Yoshino said. "Except for Kuchiki Rukia. I would like to have a word with you, if I may."

Rukia felt her heart temporarily fail, and she pointedly ignored the glances of interest coming from the other participants. Yoshino smiled to Rukia as RanTao left the room last, shutting the door behind her.

"So Rukia," Yoshino said, her slender fingers interlaced before her. "I see you had a substitution tonight."

"Sorry," Rukia bowed her head. "I should have told you about it first."

Amazingly Yoshino smiled, shaking her head. "It is ok."

"Really?"

"Yes, injuries, illness and unforeseen circumstances are a part of life. My sister and I discussed the matter and have decided to allow each designer the option to substitute a model, but you can only have three substitutions."

"Really?" Rukia jumped to her feet, feeling as if she could hug Yoshino. Reigning in her emotions, Rukia said, "Thank you so much Yoshino. I promise, this new guy is fabulous."

"Well, let's just hope he does your designs justice."

_II~II~II_

Ichigo was doing some foot tapping of his own, pacing back and forth as he waited in the backroom for Rukia to return. "Ichigo, Ichigooooo," it was the dang voices again, this particular voice belonged to Shinji. "What are you doing? Why are you waiting there? Just book it already before she finds out who you are."

"We don't want her to find out that she has a team of highly trained special ops soldiers watching her," Hitsugaya said. "Just leave now."

"But, sir," Ichigo didn't know why, but he couldn't just leave. This was the first time he had questioned an order but he didn't give that realization a second thought. "I said I would wait for her."

"Kurosaki, look right now the best thing to do is have you come back so we can discuss this matter together."

Silence pervaded and Ichigo kept his gaze on the direction that Rukia had disappeared in, wishing and hoping for her to appear. This was one promise he felt he couldn't break.

"Ichigo," Momo said quietly, "Just come back ok?"

He waited a moment longer, finally nodding his head even though his comrades couldn't see him. "Very well."

His footfalls were heavy as he made his way towards the exit. He glanced back over his shoulder once more, pulling out his earpiece and shoving it into his pocket.

A piercing scream chilled his blood.

His heart beat raced and his body tensed. He swept his hands to his waist searching for his gun. "Shit," he said, his voice low. He didn't have his real gun with him.

But, that was the least of his worries. That scream, as much as he hated to ponder it, sounded an awful lot like … Rukia.

Not giving his unarmed state another worry, he took off, through the door that Rukia had gone through earlier. "Rukia," he said softly into the dimly lit room. The only light came from the catwalk lamps, still on and lighting the walkway.

Ichigo waited for his eyes to dilate, adjusting to the semi darkness. "Rukia," he said once more.

"Welcome."

The deep male voice came from the head of the runway. Ichigo whipped about to come face-to-face with a heart dropping sight. "Rukia," he saw her slender form, tucked under the arm of a vicious looking man. A white cloth was tight about her mouth and her eyes were full of anger rather than fear.

"I'm guessing you are the soldier that has been following the princess around, right?" the man said.

"How do you know that? Who are you?" Ichigo said, attempting to minimize the distance between himself and Rukia.

"Stop right there," the man held up a knife, waving it around in front of Rukia's face. "You wouldn't want to be the reason that Atoria's beauty got her face all slashed to hell now would you?"

"Shut up and tell me who you are!"

"I doubt you've heard of me. My name is Dordonii Alessandro Del Socacchio, pleased to meet you," he grinned. "And what is your name?"

"Kimitsu-"

"No, your real name. I'm guessing that the name you've given is not your real one. Am I right?"

There was a loud grumbling noise and Rukia, with apparent effort, managed to push the gag from over her mouth. She turned her head, glaring at the man who had her under his arm like a sack of potatoes. "Look here you lunatic," she said in a voice heated with anger. "I don't know who you think you are but you better let me go before I sew your eyelids shut."

The man frowned, leaning over to peer at Rukia, "Are you really the Princess of Atoria?"

"Are you really an idiot? Yes," Rukia answered her own question, "now put me down lard brain. And you," she turned to cast a rather menacing scowl in Ichigo's direction. "Himitsu you stupid idiot. What do you think you're doing?"

This was the first time a captive had ever chewed Ichigo out and he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do. "Uh," he glanced at Dordonii to see that the man was just as confused as he was. "I'm saving you," Ichigo said but his words came out sounding like a question.

"Saving me?" Rukia rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease, I bet you're just one of those manga type nerds who read a story, become obsessed then go and act out scenes from the story. So, do you think you're a ninja? Is your role model Naruto?"

"Um, I don't even know who that is ..."

"Oh, or do you think you're a jedi?"

"Uh ..."

"Or an exorcist or vampire?"

"No ..."

"Or some sort of Shinigami?"

"Well," he had to give that one some deliberation. He didn't think he was a shinigami, per say, but that was his nickname ...

"Hey, you," Rukia was back to talking to, or rather, verbally abusing, Dordonii, "If anyone has ever told you that eyebrows are supposed to do that, they lied. You look stupid."

"Hey girl," the man sounded annoyed, and brandished the knife near Rukia's face once more. "Do you not understand the situation? You're my captive right now, so act like one and shut up."

"And what's with your name?" Rukia ignored him. "It's so long. What was it, like three, four names long? Who needs that many names? Obviously people who are compensating for something ..." She let her eyes noticeably sweep from the man's head to his toes. "On second thought, maybe your name does need to be longer."

Ichigo really had no idea what to do. His military instructors had rained down their fair share of verbal degradation on him while he underwent training, but to hear it from his country's princess was a completely different matter.

"And what's with that red dot on your forehead," Rukia plowed on. "Do you think you're some sort of monk. Pbbft, far from it, freak."

"Alright, alright! Would you just shut up already," Dordonii looked ready to snap. "You are just a little girl, so shut up! It looks like no one has ever taught you just how cruel the real world can be. And just for your information, I am not falling for your trick."

"What trick?"

"Oh what trick," he repeated sarcastically. "You want me to get all distracted looking for this supposed red dot on my forehead and then you're going to try something funny? Am I right? Did I just spoil your plan?"

Rukia gave him a look of pity. "If it's a plan that you were able to figure out, then I'm obviously not stupid enough to do it. And there really is a freakin' red dot on your forehead."

Ichigo finally saw it, the flickering red dot, dead center on Dordonii's forehead. No sooner did he see it and realize what is was when a click came from overhead, and Dordonii fell backwards. Rukia gave a small shriek as she was dropped. Her hands were tied behind her back and she hit the stage on her shoulder, rolling from the raised platform to the floor.

"Shit," Ichigo ran to Rukia, hopping over the runway to find her unconscious on the floor. Above him, Dordonii wasn't moving but gave that observation little thought.

Ichigo hesitated, unsure of whether he should try and move Rukia or not. Her eyes were closed, as if in slumber and a small but stead stream of blood blossomed near her temple.

"Rukia," Ichigo shook her gently. "Rukia."

"Ichigo!" he heard his name. The sound of footsteps came from the other side of the runway someone jumped onto the stage. "Ichigo, is she ok?" it was Hitsugaya, in the flesh. The teal eyes of the lieutenant were fixed upon Rukia and he leapt from the platform, landing near Ichigo. He was clad in all black, the unmistakable form of a bullet-proof vest under his jacket. He returned his gun to its holster, reaching out to take one of Rukia's wrists between his fingers, searching for a pulse.

"She's just unconscious," Ichigo murmured, scooping Rukia into his arms and getting to his feet. "What about Dordonii?"

"He was merely knocked out," Hitsugaya jerked a thumb in Dordonii's direction. "Momo hit him right on his forehead. He'll be out for a bit, but he should be fine."

Ulquiorra stood on the stage, kneeling near Dordonii as he bound the man's hands and feet. Shinji was hunched over the captive's head, working away diligently at something.

"Shinji," Momo appeared, a large sniper rifle hung over her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Shinji chuckled, "I'm just giving our friend a little haircut."

"Hirako," Hitsugaya sighed. "I don't even care right now. Ulquiorra will you make sure Dordonii gets taken back to our base, _alive_. Ichigo," Hitsugaya headed towards the exit, "Come with me and bring the princess."

* * *

_Yay, finished :D_

_Any Questions or comments or feelings sharing or anything else?_

_Oooooooh, who wants to be the **interviewer** for the next chapter? I'm not even kidding, if someone else wants to be the interviewer next time, let me know :) Mwhahaha, it's fun :) plus, I already interviewed the hardest contestant!_

_I don't know when it will get into the story, but the contestants are:_

_Rukia_  
_Aporro_  
_Nanao Ise_  
_Love Aikawa_  
_Honsho Chizuru_  
_Edrad Liones _


End file.
